


Me and You and You

by Nalana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Coffee Shops, College, Domestic Fluff, Everybody Lives, Future Fic, Multi, Polyamory, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalana/pseuds/Nalana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison's life had never been typical. All she wanted was a slice of normal. But even with that, there were some things she refused to give up for a popular concept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and You and You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Teen Wolf Rare Pair Anon exchange. I attempted to include as many prompts and likes as possible from what was requested. So while this may not conform to a singular ideal, I hope it will press enough happy buttons. 
> 
> Thanks a billion to my amazing beta who looked at this for me regardless of her own preferences and crazy life.

“Okay so that’s one Flat White and an Almond Green Eye.” Her limbs moved on automatic as she hoisted the cups from the barista to the counter with a smile pointed at the disheveled regular with a rumpled sweater. “That should get you through Smithson’s review.”  
  
The customer lifted his cup towards Allison in a salute as he haphazardly handed over the other beverage to his companion. Allison nodded in return, silently exhaling as she reached the end of the morning rush. Her eyes shot up to the clock when the next person entered from under her last customer’s arm as he toggled the door with one hand.

“I know, I know.” The blond huffed as she walked directly behind the counter towards the staff doors. Her coworker was perpetually late. Which is why Allison had an under-the-table arrangement that unofficially scheduled her past her hours to make up for the gaps. The barista eyed Allison with a shared skepticism.

“I got this. Go get your stuff; I’ll get yours ready. You gots to get movin’ girlie.”

“Thanks Cal.” Allison exhaled, unlacing her apron as she backed up towards the stock room and staff area. She had a comfortable relationship with her shift mates for the most part. Calista was the owner’s niece, and one of the few full timers.

Ignoring her co-worker’s excuses about her timing, she had heard it all; She had mastered the art of responding appropriately on automatic. When your ultimate goal is to keep your head low, you avoid drama. Allison quickly gathered her coat and purse. She looped a scarf around her neck, tugging it into a loose knot as she made her exiting comments.

Swinging through the doors Allison paused to inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut briefly as she basked in the clinking of spoons, the mechanical whirl of the grinder. Steam hissed while water gurgled and dripped. Spicy, nutty, roasts of the season washed over the room. Undertones of tarts and muffins infused with fruit and honey carried through the current. The last traces of the bacon and sausage from the morning’s batch of breakfast grabbers was slowly being replaced with the aroma of the afternoon’s bread bake.

Her stomach amply rumbled as a reminder of the rush she had been in to get to opening. On cue, Cal was elbowing the counter pushing a recycled-fiber to-go bag and matching a big verbal coffee tray towards her with boot about missing the T. Allison chuckled off the matronly concern and moved towards the streets.

She was sure that others might find this the quintessential part time gig for the ‘every day cute college student’ as it had been phrased. For Allison, it was her little slice of normal. Well, not exactly normal. Her life hadn’t been _normal_ since she was seventeen.

Her life had never been typical. Allison had been raised under the pretense that her father had a highly sensitive job, which threw her family from place to place at an alarming rate. Her mother had instilled strong expectations derived from a high society background, which kept her in an equally rigid regime. All of that was thrown to the wind as Allison was tossed into a maelstrom of bizarre—also known as the new reality. Allison’s was a life of werewolves and hunters, of all the things that go bump in the night.

After her final years of high school were spent running for her life and saving the town a few dozen times over, Allison had welcomed the opportunity to find her own footing. Except instead of fleeing oppressive parents to find her true self like most girls her age, she craved the most mundane life possible. She hadn’t completely achieved it here in the slightly smoggy and billboard speckled sidewalks, but close to it.

Was it a big deal that an associate of her boyfriend’s former employer owned her little caffeinated slice of heaven? It wasn’t easy to find someone so accommodating with scheduling. It was difficult to manage work hours when those last-minute creature of the week sightings swallowed time otherwise designated to studying. It was also particularly difficult to secure an apartment complex in a reputable urban center with a fully stocked armory and makeshift gym in place of a basement without maintaining a few family connections. And if she had an arrangement with a cleverly disguised paintball course to transform into a multi-obstacle firing range for more than her other boyfriend’s targeting practice, so what?

Oh. Then there was that. A smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she passed by the hissing doors that squeaked shut just moments after she crossed the platform and into the carriage. Who would have ever pegged that maintaining a mutual three-person relationship would be the easy quirk of life to deal with. Allison turned her head toward the doors as she slipped into a scuffed bucket seat. She took to watching the lights lining the tunnels streak by.

Of all their parents, hers had taken the revelation the hardest. Mr. Stilinski had broke into a manic laughter. When he realized it wasn’t a joke, his head had fallen into his hand in defeat. In his reasoning, if banshees and kanimas were floating around, what was another body sitting at Thanksgiving? Melissa had taken a moment to digest the information before giving them all a lecture about exclusion and heartbreak. Satisfied with their responses, Melissa reflected that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Scott and Stiles had done everything else as a unit. Why not this?

Allison’s mother, however, had been a battle. If getting her to accept that a hunter could fall for a werewolf was difficult, this was a high wire walk over the Grand Canyon. While ironically both hunter and pack societies are matriarchal, her father was the one to finally put his foot down. Scott had proven to be an ally for what seemed like the hundredth time. Chris asked his wife if their daughter having someone strong and noble at her back was a bad thing. If Allison had someone as equally compassionate and intelligent at her other side, their little girl would have all the power in the world. That was Stiles’ job. It didn’t erase the animosity, but the tension ebbed for the moment.

When the car pulled up to her station Allison slithered out into the crowds. The fatigue that had knotted her shoulders eased. On the sidewalk again, the nip in the air was a refreshing surprise in comparison to the humidity of the bodies below. She was revived by the time she reached her door.

Skipping up the first flight of stairs, she dropped her bag to the floor as she fiddled with her keys. Twisting the knob she nudged the door open with her hip announcing her arrival as she made a beeline for the kitchen. It wasn’t perfection, but she had mastered the reheating process long ago.

Equipped with edible goods, she backtracked into the living area; resigned to the sight she had anticipated. Stiles was sprawled half over the couch, half on the floor. He floated in a pool of loose leaf papers, text books, highlighters, pens, and pencils. One writing implement was clenched between his teeth as he stretched to tap a few keys on the laptop in front of him. The computer was precariously settled on the corner of the barely visible coffee table. His hair was matted. The skin under his eyes was dark. He hardly took notice of her arrival.

In other words he was just how she had left him at quarter to five.

Maneuvering with masterful grace, Allison worked her way into the mass of material. Finding a bare spot on the table she set the food down long enough to carefully sort the haphazard piles enough to find room to sit. Hopefully she hadn’t disturbed his system of organized chaos. Stiles’ first year in Criminology had been tough. She wasn’t sure he was going to survive round two.

“For you,” She purred, lifting one cup and ran it under Stiles’ nose. The combination of honey and cinnamon vented up to his nose. “One Miel, extra espresso.”

Robotically Stiles reached for the cup. The moment the liquid hit his tongue his eyes rolled back into his head. A guttural groan rolled out of his throat. Wordlessly she palmed him the cheese slathered protein deluxe stuffed bagel. At least it had spinach somewhere in it. And, to Stiles’ credit, Allison wasn’t sure he had actually consumed anything last night.

“Gwrease andh kahffeen.” He choked through a bite before swallowing. “You. You are a _goddess_.”

“Still working around that essay?” Allison nudged him lightly with her knee as she unwrapped her own croissant. “Thought it wasn’t due until Monday.”

“Yes, and if you and Scott want to see my ugly mug at all this weekend, this is getting done by three. Because, unlike you and our pet furrball, I actually require at least a couple hours of sleep once in a while.”

“Just think.” She raised her hand to his neck, kneading lightly with her fingers, leaning in to his ear giving it a playful nibble at the end of her statement. “You get through this and we won’t have to go about stealing your dad’s handcuffs anymore.”

“That’s pretty rich coming from a girl who can work her way around a dozen different knots single handedly in five minutes.” Stiles quipped.

“Didn’t hear you complaining last weekend. Then again I’m not sure I’d mind being latched onto that pretty wolf either.” A blush worked its way across the bridge of Stiles nose to his cheeks.

Allison wormed her way against his side. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he worked away. Her presence had become natural to him. She had learned many ways to work her way into contact. It was just easier when there was only one body to conform to. She munched away at breakfast as Stiles alternated between scribbling notes and flipping through pages. She occasionally passed him materials as he motioned. On an occasion or two she had become a free hand so he could eat and type eat the same time.

She had never imagined they’d be close like this. It wasn’t like she had planned. When you’re young—not that she was ancient she had to remind herself—you always think your first love is eternal. She and Scott had faced the worst of the world together and come out on top. She had been starry eyed and fearless. Even during their lovesick puppy days she had always been aware of this other presence.

Come hell or high water--both of which they had seen in some form—Stiles was guaranteed to be by Scott’s side. There had always been a connection between the two boys that didn’t quite fit any conventional category. There were days when Allison had been jealous of this sacred synchronization. She had also been afraid. The last thing she had wanted to do was to wedge her way between them. She had seen enough friendships be strained because of outside relationships. She also didn’t want to be nudged out herself.

She hadn’t realized how true her fears had been until one night when she had gone to rescue a broken down Stiles. As flamboyant and ambitious as he could be, Stiles was fragile. He saw the best in everyone except himself. That night on the sidewalk as they waited for the tow truck something shifted between them. Something changed.

She had taken his hand.

Just that. Allison had taken his hand and pulled him into her car. She kept it there as they drove home. Entwined fingers rested on the dividing compartment between the seats as she steered with one hand.

It wasn’t until later, much later, when he had confided his reflection on his own ‘humanness’ that she had turned stern on him. Human as he may be, he was far from useless. Scott may be an alpha, but there was no one more important to him or to their pack than Stiles. He reminded them of who they are, what they were fighting for. His insight as both an intellect and a humanitarian remained unclouded amongst a group riddled with emotion, adrenaline, and instinct. He was logic. And he was loved. Not just in the midst of danger, but long before. And he’d continue to be long after the threats vanished.

She, and Scott, had decided to spend as much time as possible reminding him of his achievements as they could. Without inflating his easily deflated ego excessively, that was. Stiles had been spending years building up theirs. It seemed fair.

The atmosphere around them had morphed. Scott felt it. He had been happy at first to see the two people most important to him getting closer. Until the insecurities set in-ones that were quickly resolved when Allison had suggested that maybe there was no choice to be made, no ultimatum or line. The proposal had left the boys baffled. She’d be lying if she had said the physical side of their relationship had come to exist without a few awkward bumps. But if there was one thing they did well, it was to act as a unit. It had taken time, but they had found their comfort.

Life moves on. With the chance of her normal life also came another common divide she would have rather avoided. Scott had determination and his slew of talents. But his academic pursuits had always fallen a bit short. When Allison and Stiles’ first choice of a university had declined Scott admission, their world nearly came to an abrupt halt.

Where there was a will there was a way. A smaller public college had not only admitted Scott, but also offered him a scholarship based on more recent academic and athletic achievements. Glowing referrals from coach, Deaton, and Allison’s father who had grown a reputation as a prominent businessman, didn’t hurt matters either. The two institutions weren’t quite close enough to commute daily to, but weekend residence at one another’s apartments was more than doable.

The arrangement wasn’t ideal. Busy schedules, varied vacation breaks, and test dates meant not all three were always able to be in the same place each weekend. Separation did allow for some levels of jealousy to worm its way in. The weekdays sometimes felt like months. They frequently counted the hours until they were back together. The odd chemistry and intense intimacy just seemed different when they weren’t in the same area. But they powered through it.

Doubts vanished when one car pulled up to one building or another, and she saw Scott immerge. When Stiles wrapped his arms around him and her two lovers drew her in her heart still fluttered like the first time they had kissed. All the wrong in the world, all the insecurity and numbness that shielded each from their individual lonesomeness crumbled away. There was no question in her mind that this was right. This was the love that people dreamed about, wrote songs about, made history out of.

What was a little distance anyway? She had been shuffled around her whole life. A location was a location. Here, where her heart thudded and her mind and body hummed with contentment, this was where she belonged. This was a place that would feel like home. Even if the world was crumbling around them, as it so frequently did.

“Done!” Stiles triumphantly shouted with a few final keystrokes. His backwards arm-toss of elation nearly sent Allison and both coffees flying. She laughed as he fought for their balance, somehow saving all human and edible parties involved with one third of his trio now nestled in his lap.

“You should get some sleep.” Allison whispered, running her hand up Stiles’ arm soothingly. His head was leaned back, eyes closed as he ran his own fingers along her side. He traced lines over fabric where he knew ink settled below. Dark and vibrant colors lay just out of sight of the public eye. Her personal motto, the cursive embellishing the French, was tagged over her heart.

“But, you know… I was thinking. Maybe we should do something. To surprise Scott.”

“The last time I heard that, I believe I ended up in something that washed away any trace of masculinity I had left.” He slid open one eye and half-heartedly glared at her.

“Which is why there’s a drawer full of things you guys won’t admit aren’t mine?” She smirked, walking a finger up his ribs. Stiles tried to stutter out a remark about more comfortable than it looked.

“No I’m thinking…something a little more permanent.” Allison’s eyes sparkled. Stiles swallowed.

 

 

“SCOTT!” Allison practically flew into the alpha’s arms when he finally walked around the corner after ditching the car in parking. Scott caught her with ease and practically dragged her back up the stairs where Stiles was waiting, hands in his pockets with a floppy grin.

“It’s only been two weeks.” Scott kissed her forehead before sharing the same gesture with Stiles as they moved into the building.

“Two weeks too long!” She said with a slide in her words that hid hesitation, emphasized with a roll of her fingers along his neck.

Scott squinted at her. Allison beamed, taking his hand and practically skipping up the stairwell. Scott’s eyebrows drew together silently mouthing a question towards Stiles. The other pinched and puckered his lips, eyes widening in a poor attempt to play clueless.

Scott didn’t have to wait too long. Once in the apartment, Stiles kicked off his shoes and headed for the couch. It took Scott a moment to wonder why Allison didn’t immediately shout a matronly ‘feet, table, no’ at him. The peek of black at Stiles’ ankle was telling. Scott drew back in complete confusion.

“When did this happen? You got him to stay conscious? For like, more than three seconds?” There was an edge to Scott’s astonishment. His words came out as accusation.

“No, not…really. That, that’s just sharpie. Not…thinking about the sharp pointy things.” Stiles visibly shuddered as Scott came in for a closer look. He peeled back the other’s pant leg in confusion. The image was cut off at a strange angle.

Allison took Scott’s hand from behind, pulled him away from the couch, and walked towards the bedroom. Stiles followed smugly. Once near the bed, she let Stiles lead Scott onto the mattress before she knelt down, armed with a marker instead of a bow. She was quick, even though Stiles took to preoccupying Scott’s focus with a proper greeting kiss. By the time the alpha was allowed to breathe on his own again, Allison was working her way between them. With Stiles’ help they nestled into their usual sleeping position.

With their legs entwined Allison nodded with her head for Scott to look down. Where their legs crossed one another was now the image of a moon-crested shield pinned in place with an arrow. Scott huffed out his amusement.

“What’s this?”

“Well…since we can’t have the same sort of reminder of each other that a lot of people can, I thought we might want to think a little broader.” Allison shrunk in on herself. Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on Scott’s chest. Stiles rubbed her arm for encouragement.

“But…that’s more our thing, right?” Scott looked over at Stiles. He still remembered the day at the shop when he attempted to get his first inking.

“Even if it’s freakin’ huge.” Stiles muttered before speaking up. “Yeah, ink’s not my thing. But if it’s something we can share that others can’t? I can try to… deal. And maybe that venomous chick you go to can make it go faster. You know. One…searing…agonizing…moment. Instead of ten thousand little pricks of doom.”

“We could do something smaller. Like, ring markings. Stiles could still hide it for his job with a real ring. Or a band aide.” He suggested, his enthusiasm relieving the two had proposed the idea.

“They deteriorate a lot. If I’m doing this, it’s going to last. Besides, that’s not us. Anyone can get a ring. Hell, we might not be able to get a certificate but we could get rings. We’re not anyone.” Stiles’ discomfort washed away immediately. Allison turned her head proudly.

Stiles wasn’t one for pain. He was, however, totally dedicated to this. Like everything else, they’d make it work. Allison knew he’d be impossible to live with an ego the size of the building when he came out of the experience realizing that it wasn’t so bad. And that he might get a few sympathy points. She couldn’t blame him for playing the game.

“Sooooo?” Allison turned. “You in on this McCall?”

 

The devilish grin that met her was answer enough.

 

So this wasn’t normal. That didn’t mean it wasn’t right. As her boys began relieving her of her attire with fingers and teeth with a mix of breath and not-so-human growls, she hummed with its perfection. After all, the abnormal was her forte. She wouldn’t trade it for the teenage after-school special drama that was the paradigm of a ‘typical’ life any day.

 

 

 


End file.
